


Flowers in your hair

by lwtmehome



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Smut, this is kinda stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 02:23:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7386847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lwtmehome/pseuds/lwtmehome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It kind of pains Louis to admit that he’s been walking past the meadow for four days now, just to get a glimpse of the mystery man. <br/>He keeps reasoning himself: <i>I’m a human, he was absolutely fucking gorgeous. Who even wears flower crowns?</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or, the one where Louis moves in to woods and meets Harry, who loves bilberries and flowers. And maybe Louis too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers in your hair

**Author's Note:**

> Alright people. This short fic, I have an odd relationship to it. I don't completely feel like it's my style, but I wrote it anyhow and wanted to post it here.  
> I know I say this on most of my one shots, but it isn't my best work, and I wonder when will I post my best pieces. 
> 
> And, as some of you may know, if you've read any of my previous works, I'm _shitty_ with happy endings, so. 
> 
>  
> 
> **This fic was written by the request of one of my greatest friends and so I dedicate it to _her_ **
> 
>  
> 
> All I had when I started writing this fic was: _Harry loves bilberries, flowers, summer and he's smitten with Louis. And Louis hunts._
> 
> **Please don't post any of this on to any other website, since it is my work, thank you. I own none of the characters however and this story is purely fictional.**  
>  There you go.

The silence. That has to be one of Louis’ favorite things about the forest. Well that and the greeness all around him. Louis wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking exactly, buying a cottage, which really is more of a house than a cottage, in the middle of nowhere. And that wasn’t even exaggerating, because it literally had said _’on the edge of a mostly deserted village, surrounded by pines and firs’._

What he did know, was that he wanted to get out of the city, away from the fumes and busy people. Buying a house, as his mother had stated, was mental, though. Louis had all the money he needed to provide himself a nice life and buy a gift or two for his sisters and mother when he felt like it, but really, all he ever wanted was a house from the woods. 

Zayn had snorted when he’d heard about his plans, said that Louis could do it once he’d be old and good-for-nothing. Unfortunately for Zayn, Louis rarely listens to other people. He’d only searched for couple of weeks before this particular house had caught his eye, and the rest is history, really. 

Louis thinks his friends and family are overreacting, to say the least. It’s not like he decided to move to another country or anything. He’s not _that_ far away – just a five hour drive from London. He’s been living here for a week now, escaping his life carefully. And by carefully, he means that in order no to freak out Zayn and Liam, he’d promised to be back to London after his summer vacation ends. What his two best friends don’t know, is that he’s actually already resigned from the modelling company he’d been signed for five years now.

His phone buzzes on the table, a painful reminder that no matter how far away he goes, his inner circle will reach him through the phone.

”What’s up mate?” Louis answers with a bored tone, as he makes his way outside, grabbing his Marling rimfire with him.

”Just called to check if you’re ready to come back home now,” Zayn keeps his tone neutral, but Louis’ known Zayn since they were eleven, and really, the other is just pissed.

Or he misses Louis.

”I don’t understand whatever you mean, Zaynie. I am home,” Louis takes a risk with his acting of ignorance, but it’s worth it. 

He really just wants to get out in the forest and hunt. That’s one of the greatest things about the forest in August and September.

”Right. So we’re still on that,” the other mutters as Louis ventures deeper in to the forest, leaving behind his house.

”Yeah, look Z, I’ve got stuff to do. How about we call later, yeah?” Louis is already saying his goodbyes and hanging up before Zayn manages to protest.

As Louis pockets his phone and wipes his mind blank from the work stuff, the city stuff, he really starts taking his surroundings in.  
It’s not really like he’s expecting to shoot anything at this hour, it’s three in the afternoon, but this is really the first day he’s got the energy to go out and see the forest. Louis might not struck to you as a hunting type, but then again, not many know that he’s from Doncaster and that his stepfather and him used to go out hunting every year.

Louis lives for this shit, to be more precise. 

As soon as Louis can’t see his house anymore, he slows down, taking careful steps, blowing his soft fringe from blocking his view. It’s beautifully quiet everywhere and Louis quite likes it. The only sounds comes from birds telling stories that Louis sometimes as a kid used to listen, making them up as he went. 

And yeah, Louis thinks he might not miss the city even one bit.

……

”Come on, Dusty,” Harry props, pushing the cat inside the house, not minding the protests. 

He closes the door and picks up the basket from the ground, starting towards the familiar lake. Harry doesn’t have to see the lake to know it’s there, he’s been living here for years now. He knows the woods like the back of his hand, which can be handy when he does what he likes best: picks bilberries. 

Harry makes his way through some bushes, careful not to harm them, before he steps on to the path, formed there as the result of his wandering around.  
It’s mostly quiet, aside from Harry’s silent humming and the singing of the birds, mostly robins and finches, Harry recognizes. He doesn’t have to walk far to find a vast bilberry strip. The dark blue berries make Harry squeal in delight, and he doesn’t spare a thought to his pants as he drops to his knees and starts picking up the berries, one by one.  
It’s weirdly warm and sunny for early August, but Harry’s not complaining. The sun warms his back as he carefully picks up a berry after a berry. 

It relaxes him. 

It’s not even 7a.m. yet, but Harry’s a morning person, and really, the forest is at its peak around this time of the morning. The calming brush of bilberry leaves on his fingers and the _green green green_ all around him makes Harry inexplicably happy. 

Harry doesn’t know whether he spends an hour or two crouching there on the ground, but at some point he picks himself up, satisfied with the full basket of berries. He’s sweating from the heat even though he’s only wearing a loose button up t-shirt and soft cotton trousers. 

It would be nice to get a shower, he thinks, but he also knows that there’s a meadow not that long away, and he needs new flowers. It’s not a choice really, as Harry turns to left and starts making his way through the branches. 

The sun is higher now, but it’s still pretty early in the morning, Harry can tell. It really isn’t the worst morning out of all.  
The meadow is blooming, as per usual. The colours are blinding, glowing in the colours of a rainbow. It’s one of Harry’s favorite things, to come up with new flower arrangements, combining colours and touching the soft petals.

He knows better than to lower the basket on the ground and leave it unattended. When he first moved here and was just beginning to love the nature the way he now does, he hadn’t realized how easily someone – a bunny, a squirrel – could just come and eat away all of his hard work.  
So, he makes his way with his basket perched on his arm as he picks up some yellow, orange and red flowers; all colours that say _heat, warmness_ and _sun_ to him.  
He’s about to head back to the cabin, when something catches his eye.

………

Louis had been out in the forest since before 5a.m. and it had paid off. He’d shot a couple of rabbits, enjoying the warm England morning, lying on his stomach, waiting for a rabbit to come in to his view. 

He’d shot two, scaring off all the rest of the bunnies, which is why he’s not expecting to run into one more. Something’s off, though.  
Louis’ not really trying to approach quietly or anything, he’s stepping on crunchy branches and all, but the rabbit isn’t really trying to escape. It’s only when he gets closer that he notices the blood on its paw. 

Its wounded.

As Louis takes a closer look, he can tell the rabbit can’t recover. He knows its in pain and will be dead before long – if not because of the wound, then because of an another wild animal. He takes a step back, lowering the two rabbits he’s tied from their legs to the ground, and aiming his air rifle towards the rapidly breathing rabbit.  
He’s just about to pull down the trigger, when someone yells:

”No!”

It almost startles Louis bad enough to pull the trigger all the way, but he’s quick enough to lower the gun. 

And what the actual fuck.

There’s a man walking towards him and the rabbit, a man holding a basket filled with what looks like bilberries and flowers, while _wearing_ a flower crown. There’s no way that the deep voice belongs to this one, Louis thinks.

”Are you bloody crazy? I could’ve shot meself in the foot,” Louis manages to boom, a little too loudly in to the quiet forest. 

The man is frowning, his full lips turned into a pout as he reaches the whimpering animal. He doesn’t say anything, just crouches down and takes a closer look. 

And yeah, Louis shouldn’t think about how the man’s curly brown locks frame his face just perfectly to bring out the high cheek bones (not a competition to Louis’ own, mind you) and his piercing green eyes, not to mention the rosy lips. 

The stranger is gorgeous, however, and Louis is only a human. 

”Are you alright, little guy?” the man’s actually whispering to the rabbit, but of course he gets no response from the creature.

”He’s in pain. I was just about to end his suffering, when you yelled,” he explains, not sure why, because it’s not like the other doesn’t have eyes. 

”You can’t do that,” and yes, the stranger’s voice really is that low. It’s like a slow drawl of those summer nights Louis used to spend with his friends back in Donny; calming and relaxing. 

There’s a crease on the other’s forehead as he lifts his head to look at Louis, whose just standing there, with his gun. For some reason, Louis feels like he shouldn’t be holding the gun at all, like he’s committing a crime, which is just bloody ridiculous: it’s open season. 

”And why is that, exactly?” Louis manages to ask finally, raising an eyebrow. 

He can’t help it, it’s his first instinct to be less friendly with new people.

”I’ve named him George.”

Well. If that was supposed to turn on the light bulb above Louis’ head, it didn’t serve its purpose. Louis says as much, earning a puzzled look from the man.

”You can’t shoot an animal with a name,” there’s a stubborn edge to Curly’s tone, and somehow in Louis’ eyes the other resembles a child. 

Even with his obviously toned body. (Hard to ignore, seeing the other hadn’t bothered to button up the shirt even half way through.)

”Right. There’s hundreds of rabbits in this forest, alright? But this one, it's suffering. You’d be plain cruel to leave it here like this. And you can’t nurse it either, its leg is seriously messed up,” Louis explains, approaching the matter from a different angle, realizing that the man really just doesn’t want the rabbit to hurt.

He’s clearly not a hunter.

Curly seems to ponder it: he keeps staring at the whimpering rabbit on the ground and chewing his bottom lip, which really, just really, shouldn’t take up so much of Louis’ attention. 

He sighs and lowers himself next to the stranger and the suffering animal, before speaking:

”Look, it’s better this way. I’ve been hunting for a long time, I know this stuff,” Louis reassures, contemplating on patting the other’s arm, but deciding against it in the end.

”I guess so,” the man finally relents, but Louis can see how he’s gulping and how his eyes are getting teary. 

Oh god no.

The first instinct for Louis, is to hug the man. Ridiculous, of course, because the other is a man, not a child. But he seems vulnerable in that moment, and Louis’ never wanted anything more than he wants to pull the other in his arms and tell him it’s alright.

”Don’t cry,” Louis says instead, and it’s not satisfying him, ”it’s alright. He, George, won’t feel a thing.”

A wet laugh leaves Curly’s mouth, and wow, even that’s a pretty sound, Louis thinks.

”I don’t want to stay and watch. Don’t leave him here either,” the other instructs before getting up and wiping away the tears yet to fall. 

”Yeah, I won’t, promise,” Louis says, even though the taller man is already turning away and leaving him there with the three rabbits.

And if it takes a moment for Louis to gather himself up before he takes care of the rabbit, well. nobody needs to know.  
………

It kind of pains Louis to admit that he’s been walking past the meadow for four days now, just to get a glimpse of the mystery man.  
He keeps reasoning himself: _I’m a human, he was absolutely fucking gorgeous. Who even wears flower crowns?_

But that doesn’t help, really. Louis has been single for a long time, not really interested in the wicked relationships that modelling has to offer for him, it’s more of a Zayn thing anyways. 

He’s had sex, of course, but he’s never felt the need to really seek for a relationship. And it’s not like this, him coming back for the same damn meadow for the fourth day in a row, actually _means_ anything. He just likes the view.

But, just like every other day he’s come here, the meadow is void of humans, and a small feeling, something pretty close to disappointment, settles in Louis’ stomach. He doesn’t dwell on it, though. Instead, he heads for the complete opposite direction, heading for the lake he heard about the other day while visiting the village. 

He’s got his Remington shotgun with him, loaded ready for him to shoot some waterfowl. He has some rabbits in his freezer already, but he could use a duck, seeing it probably won’t take long for his family to visit him, and he’d really like to serve them duck. 

Even if he has to go to the village to get it prepared. Louis is an awesome hunter, even if he says so himself, but he can’t cook for shit.

The lake is surprisingly close and Louis reaches it in no time. It’s not a huge lake, but not the smallest one he’s come across either.  
There are ducks in the lake already, but he decides to wait for a while, if some of them would fly. Louis can’t shoot them while they’re swimming, he doesn’t have a dog to fetch them. While waiting, he decides to round the lake, see if he can find a better spot for shooting.  
……

Harry is amazed. He’d actually thought that the small man was just some random person who had come to hunt for the weekend, but that doesn’t seem to be the case, seeing there he is again, walking with his gun, keeping an eye on the ducks and geese in the lake. 

Harry’s not opposed to hunting during open season, Niall does it too. It’s regulating, helping the natural selection along. The rabbit incident was different, he really doesn’t like seeing bleeding animal nor seeing animals being killed. He never goes with Niall, for a reason.

But the man. 

He’s handsome and he blends in to the woods _so_ well. Harry’s rarely met people who can blend in the way he does. Hunters try with their clothes and all, but it’s not the man's green clothes that Harry means.

It’s his way of walking, the way he doesn’t pay attention to the ground, yet he manages to avoid stepping on any branches or killing any wild flowers; it’s in his relaxed posture, the way he seems to enjoy the sounds, the smell of the pines and the plants covered in the morning dew. It’s just the man himself.  
Harry might be bordering to creepy with his watching, but he doesn’t want to startle the man like he had last time. Even though it would be nice to hear that raspy, slightly high voice again. 

Harry’s just pondering if he should go and chat, when the man lifts his gun, slowly, easily like it weighs nothing (Harry knows it does, which makes him wonder how strong the man actually is, under the clothes) and aims. 

Harry turns his gaze to the ducks, only to see they’re taking off, presumably heading for the meadow like they usually do around this time of the morning. There’s a whole flock of them as they block the view of the grey sky.

Harry barely has time to blink, when the small man is releasing his trigger and one of the ducks has gone limp and is falling down, hitting the ground somewhere across the lake.  
A clicking noise leaves the gun, before the brown haired man is throwing it over his shoulder and starting towards the direction where the bird had fallen with quick steps. Without really thinking about it, Harry takes after him trying his best to catch up. 

”Um, excuse me? Sir, mister,” Harry’s fumbling with his words, suddenly feeling quite out of place with his footing being less gracious as a result of the uncomfortable speed.

Those words, however, seem to catch the man’s attention, as he halts, only to have Harry bumping into him.

”Huh?” the man is looking at him with wide eyes, his long eyelashes framing his big, blue eyes.

Harry didn’t think this through, he realizes, as soon as he opens his mouths and the usual rambling starts:

”I’m so sorry, did I scare you again? I didn’t mean to, I was just, uh, watching and, um, you shoot really well.”

”No, yeah. Thanks,” the shorter man says, his voice a little uncertain, as if he’s a little dazed. It doesn’t last for long though.

”I got to get the duck. It won’t be there for long,” he’s gesturing vaguely towards the direction of the fallen duck and taking steps forward already. 

Harry’s not sure if he’s supposed to follow, but he does anyway. He can’t leave anymore, he wants to know more about this mystery man.

At least a name.

_Only_ because it’s Harry who lives in the middle of the forest, of course. He needs to know if the shooting is going to keep going, and if so, for how long.

Only because of that.

They find the duck soon enough and the hunter makes a quick work of tying up it’s legs and throwing it into a bag.  
Harry’s thankful, he doesn’t want to look a dead duck in the eye.

A silence follows, and Harry’s not exactly sure what to say.

………

Louis doesn’t believe his luck. The man is actually there. He’s got a new flower crown in his hair, Louis notices, and his eyes seem greener than the last time.  
A thought about the man being a part of the forest passes his mind, but he pushes it away pretty quickly, just not to get distracted. 

”So, what’s your name Mr. Flowers?” Louis could honestly do better, but apparently Curly brings the worst out of him. 

And, _gosh_ , he actually giggles, the man _giggles_. So, Louis had thought that small laugh four days ago had been ~~the most beautiful~~ a pretty sound, but _this,_ this is absolutely priceless. 

”’m Harry,” the man, Harry, says with a shy grin on his lips, something Louis would now spend his nights trying to erase from his memory. 

”Nice to meet you, Harry. I’m Louis,” Louis offers his hand, which Harry takes without a hesitation, and Louis thinks, that Harry is way too careless.

For all Harry knows, Louis could be a murderer with his gun or whatever. Harry doesn’t seem to think so though, as he shakes Louis’ hand with confidence, something Louis hadn’t expected from the curly haired man.

”Are you on a vacation?” Harry asks then, curiosity apparent in his eyes, and Louis doubts the other even tries to hide it.

He likes the way Harry’s eyes are shining, but he doesn’t comment on it.

”No, not actually. I just moved around here,” Louis points in the general direction of his house, as he speaks.

”I didn’t know there was a house there,” Harry mumbles, perhaps to himself more than to Louis.

”Yeah, there used to be this hunting cabin, but someone ran it over and built a house in its place,” Louis explains and for unknown reasons, feels a little restless.

Well, Harry himself is a reason good enough to feel a little out of place, because really: the man is straight out of a storybook Louis used to read to his little sisters, for sure. He’s pretty sure no real person should have eyes that bright. 

The crease on Harry’s forehead eases and he snaps his fingers. Louis can practically see the light bulb over his head.

”Right! I think I know which house you mean. You must be rich then,” Harry states it simply, with a genuine smile on his face. 

Louis wonders if this is just how Harry is, open and straight forward or if he’s being rude. But it doesn’t seem like Harry’d be rude, the man has the most sincere expression on his face.

”I manage,” Louis shrugs and throws Harry a small smile, too.

After that it’s silent for a while, but it’s weird, because it doesn’t feel awkward in the way it would with other people, with people from London. For some reason Louis feels like there’s so much to Harry, things he doesn’t know, habits and stories he would love to know of, but he can’t just ask. 

Can he? 

”Where do you live then? This is the second time I see you ’round here. You’re not a hunter, obviously,” Louis gestures at Harry’s clothes: the man is wearing a white button up (three buttons open, of course) and some loose floral patterned pants. He has no shoes on. 

”How’d you know?” Harry fakes a gasp, before smiling brightly and then tugging at his shirt carefully. 

”I know, must be shocking news,” Louis nods, before gesturing to Harry again. 

”Oh, yeah, right. I live about a mile away from your house, in the middle of the forest,” Harry then explains, drawling like always, his voice thick. 

Louis raises his eyebrows at that, cocking his head to the side a little. That’s funny.

”Huh, really. They told me there’s no neighbours anywhere near me house,” Louis then says, taking a step forward, deciding he needs a shower and to eat something.  
Harry walks beside him, even though the path isn’t that wide. Louis doesn’t mind.

”Not many people know about my house. The realtors aren’t local, I don’t think they have any in the village, so they don’t always do their research properly,” Harry doesn’t sound bothered in the least bit.

Louis raises his eyebrows yet again, letting out a small noise, something between of ’okay’ and a surprise. 

”You don’t mind? If I were you, I’d like to know if no one’s making my existence known,” Louis finds himself saying, not sure what he’s after with it, but going with the flow anyways. 

”I’ve lived here for years. I think it’s enough my friends, family and the villagers know I’m here. You’d have found out at some point anyways,” Harry shrugs, smiling to himself.

_A flower boy._

The thought is a flicker at best, it runs through Louis’ mind before he has the chance to grasp it, examine it and mull it over. 

Harry looks incredibly beautiful in this light, Louis notices. The trees filter the little sunlight that gets past the clouds, and it casts weak shadows on Harry’s face, highlighting the other’s sharp jawline and dimples. 

”What time is it?” Louis blurts out of nowhere, making Harry startle a little. 

”I don’t know. I don’t carry a watch with me,” Harry admits sheepishly, not looking Louis in the eye.

It’s cute, Louis thinks.

He digs up his phone: _9.17AM_

”Say. Can you cook, like anything?” Louis knows that he’s probably coming off as a creepy person, but he really can’t stop it at this point.

”Um, yeah, a bit,” Harry nods, the same curiosity back in his eyes again, the green popping out more than just a minute ago.

”I’m going to do something I’d never do under normal circumstances, but, would you like to have breakfast at my house?” Louis’ already listing explanations in his head: _I’ve been alone for a long time now, and could use some company, I’m talking to the dead rabbits in my freezer and that can’t be healthy,_ is just about to slip from his lips, when Harry answers.

”Sure. I’m guessing the cooking’s on me, though?” Harry has a face splitting smile on his lips, he’s positively beaming, for sure, and Louis finds it a little hard to breathe. 

”I’ll provide the ingredients,” he manages to half breathe out, half squeak. 

Harry only nods eagerly and skips a little.  
……

Louis’ house isn’t big, but it’s fancy. Harry only remembers the small hunting cabin standing in this house’s place, but that old shack has nothing in common with this house. 

It’s made of big, round logs and it has a terrace with a table and four garden chairs. Louis leads Harry inside and Harry notes his door is unlocked just like Harry’s, even though if Harry owned a house this expensive, he might lock it. 

The house is decorated in the most simple of ways, mostly black and white colours, which makes Harry think that Louis must’ve moved from a big city, for some reason. It’s very homey, however, even with the new furniture and all. 

The carpets are fur ones, and Harry wants to smack himself for having thoughts like _wow, isn’t that a nice fireplace and a fur carpet, what a great place to make love,_ because that is _not_ what he’s here for. 

”I hate how it still smells so new in here, you know. I had to buy new furniture and it just doesn’t suit the place at all,” Louis speaks up, and Harry notices he’s been watching Harry. 

It may or may not rise a blush on Harry’s cheeks. 

”Yeah, I get what you mean,” Harry nods.

The house isn’t big, really. It’s basically a combined kitchen and a living space with a bathroom and a loft, which Louis explains to be his bedroom, mainly.

Harry doesn’t need a tour, he decides. 

”So, what do you want to eat?” Harry asks, walking in to the kitchen with his bare feet, hopping on to the wooden kitchen isle, swinging his legs.

Louis scratches his chin, thinking, but it seems like he doesn’t come up with anything particular since his answer is:

”Surprise me. You can go through all the cabinets and whatever. Frying pans and kettles are in the cabinet inside the isle.”

Harry hops off, and watches as Louis struts off to god knows where. He doesn’t hesitate though, it’s not like him to stand idle. 

For a while he needs to search his way through the kitchen to find some eggs, then he pulls out the bacon from the fridge and gets to it. He prepares a couple of toasts too and locates a blueberry jam from the cupboard above the microwave, which makes him smile. 

Louis finds him humming some random tune and setting the table, and Harry can easily tell the other has taken a shower, his hair still damp. 

”Smells amazing. I’ve been eating yogurt for nearly two weeks now,” Louis cries out as he settles around the table, snatching a fork and a knife. 

Harry grins, before sitting opposite to Louis, taking his own set of cutlery, and digging in. At first they eat in comfortable silence, both just enjoying the food and the morning surrounding them. Louis had apparently left a window open when he left for a hunt, and now it provides them with a quiet twitter from the birds.

At some point, however, Louis opens his mouth to speak.

”What exactly do you do? Like, since you live in the middle of the forest and all.” 

Harry can tell Louis’ not comfortable asking the question, perhaps thinks it’s intruding, but really, Harry doesn’t feel that way. Not with Louis, which is a little absurd, he knows.

”I only work during winters. I have a flower shop in Pasadena, but I only spend there like three months around the coldest time of the year,” Harry explains, feeling a tad afraid of Louis’ reaction.

The other raises his eyebrows, which Harry notes, must be one of Louis’ trademark expressions, and then nods approvingly. Harry knows Louis probably wants to ask more about him, more about how exactly can he afford to live in the middle of a wood in the UK, when he’s only working in the States for few months a year, but Louis doesn’t.

”What about you? What d’you do?” Harry glances around him meaningfully, only to notice there’s actually a huge, locked cabinet for guns. 

Huh. So Louis really is a hunter.

”Do you, like hunt? For living?” 

Louis seems to hold back for a while, looking at his plate for a second or two before answering. 

”No, I only do that to provide me food. I, uh, I’m a model,” Louis says, hesitantly, looking away.

And if Harry’s jaw drops, it’s not intentional. Sure, Louis is absolutely gorgeous with his round bum and sharp face, but a _model_? Harry would’ve never guessed. 

”You don’t seem like one,” are the words Harry blurts, not too eloquently. 

”Thanks,” Louis apparently goes for ’I’m offended’, but it really doesn’t seem too bad, when he laughs, shaking his head.

”I mean. You do! You’re hot, you look like a model, but, you’re not—” Harry knows he’s screwed up already, Louis is full on laughing by now, shaking his head even more, ”mean.”  
Harry crumples, he knows this too, he lets his head fall on the table with a silent groan. Louis nudges him.

”So. You think I’m hot?” 

There’s a mischievous grin on Louis’ face, and he’s absolutely smug about it, but it only makes Harry smile shyly, and nod.

”Thanks, Harry. Not so bad yourself,” Louis is obviously teasing, but Harry likes to think there’s something genuine behind it.

And perhaps there is, because Louis’ grin turns in to a smile, one that still shows the crinkles by his eyes, but screams ’sweet’.  
……..

It isn’t Louis’ fault really, that he’s standing at the door of Harry’s cabin, really. It’s been a week since their joined breakfast, the one where Harry had called him hot and he’d nearly kissed the man square on the lips. 

In Louis’ defense, he hadn’t. 

But as it was already stated, it’s not Louis’ fault he’s here, at Harry’s door not more than a week later, really. They’d run into each other almost every day during that week, and Louis is pretty sure Harry’s just used this week to psyche himself up for this, for asking Louis to come and visit his place. 

Louis would’ve invited Harry over to his many times, but he didn’t exactly have a reason to. So he hadn’t. Yesterday Harry had finally opened his mouth and asked if Louis wanted to spend an evening at his place, playing scrabble and eating bilberry pie, and really, Louis didn’t even have to think about it.

See, Louis had spent all his nights trying to figure Harry out, but he only came to a conclusion that it was impossible. At least, if he wouldn’t spend more time with the lad. And that's exactly what he's doing.

”Are you just going to stand there or are you coming in?” Harry’s head peeks through the window, startling Louis to move forward. 

He toes off his shoes and steps inside Harry’s cabin. It is very Harry like. 

Most of the furniture, Louis guesses, were second hand, yet very fitting. The colors worked well, and if Louis had thought that the house would be decorated with flower pattern and stuffed with whatever things Harry might’ve collected around the world, he had been wrong.

It wasn’t flower pattern decorating the house, it was _flowers_. Harry had, apparently, went to the meadow every day to pick up new flowers, and he’d made his own flower arrangements too. It was beautiful. Different shades of blue, purple, pink, yellow, orange, everywhere.

”You have a really nice place,” Louis comments, taking in the small living space and the kitchen attached to it. 

Louis’ place is small, but Harry’s is even smaller. Not that it matters to Louis, really. Harry’s house is way more cozier than Louis’, for sure.

”Thanks. Decorated it myself,” Harry seems so ridiculously proud of this that Louis doesn’t even try to hide his smile. 

”I figured,” Louis nods towards the hand made vases (he wonders if Harry does pottery) and the flowers in them. 

Harry, of course, is wearing a flower crown, even though the flowers have already wilted for the most part. 

”I thought we’d eat in the kitchen, around the isle,” Harry pulls Louis in to the kitchen by his wrist, and Louis swears he can feel some sparks flying up his arm. 

Stupid.

They sit down, and as promised there’s a scrabble board and bilberry pie along with couple of glasses wine there. It’s rather late already, way past eight, so it’s already dark outside. Louis doesn’t complain about the candles Harry lights, they have a nice rosy scent to them.

”I should probably warn you. I’ve never lost a game in my life,” Harry smiles innocently as he takes a sip from his wine glass. 

Louis raises his eyebrows, smirking.

”Oh, you’re on Styles.” 

\---  
Turns out, Harry wasn’t lying. The little bastard never had lost a game and apparently his streak goes on. 

”I can’t believe this. I refuse to believe this,” Louis shakes his head, his face in his hands as he looked at the board and then at his letters. 

Harry has zero letters left, while he has an x and a q. 

”How the..” Louis blinks twice, looks at Harry, who just leans his chin on his palm, fluttering his eyelashes at Louis. 

As Louis just continues to blink, now just wondering how he ended up playing scrabble, _losing_ at scrabble to basically a stranger in the middle of a forest. Harry seems to start worrying however. 

”I mean, to be fair, I _did_ warn you,” he’s face had fallen, the beautiful smile gone now. 

”Oh, I’m not upset about losing. Don’t worry. You won fair and square there,” Louis says, reaching over the table and patting Harry’s hair, maybe a tad too affectionately. 

Harry only blushes though, and smiles. Of course he smiles. 

”So how’d you like the bilberry pie?” the younger then asks, his eyes sparkling with hope. 

”It was really good. D’you pick up the blueberries yourself?” Louis asks, just to see Harry’s eyes light up even more, as the other tells him about his trips into the forest in the early mornings.

Louis nods in the right places, as Harry washes their dishes and talks and makes him laugh and it’s all just really _nice_ , Louis thinks. 

Harry pours them another glass of wine and they move on to the couch, talking about everything and nothing.

”Yeah, me mates didn’t really appreciate my taking off and all that,” Louis admits, thinking about Zayn and Liam for the first time in a while. 

”Oh? Why is that?” Harry furrows his brows, and Louis really should stop drinking because honestly, Harry looks way too pretty with his knees bend under him, the other hand supporting his head, while the other holds the wine glass.

”Uh, well. Zayn’s just me best mate and he really is dependent on me, more than healthy probably. And Liam, he’s just worried about everything,” Louis shrugs, averting his gaze from Harry. 

Harry laughs a little.

”Yeah, I get that. Niall used to be the same, until he spent one summer here with me. He loved it out here,” Harry’s smiling to himself now in the most goofiest way Louis has ever seen, and it makes him smile.

”Tell me about what you love, Harry,” the words are out before Louis can think better.

He blames it on the wine, for sure. He wouldn’t go around saying stupid things like _tell me about what you lov—_

”I love bilberries. And flowers, especially flower crowns. I love my family and Niall and this house and this forest, too. I love summer, it’s my favorite time of the year, because of the flowers,” Harry’s talking slower than usual, maybe because of the wine, Louis’ not sure.

The other’s voice is soothing, relaxing even, as it hits Louis like a warm wind, enveloping him into _Harry._  
Louis smiles, nodding, more to himself than anything else, but Harry’s giving him a bashful smile of his own, and fiddling with his wine glass.

”What do you love then?” Harry asks back after a moment, really giving Louis something to think about. 

”I love my family too, and my friends. I love to hunt, not like in a sadistic way, you know, but just. It relaxes me, in a way. I’m in control while doing it. And I’m starting to love this forest, too, and everything it has to offer.”

And if Louis is specifically happy about his answer, he doesn’t let it show. Or at least he thinks he doesn’t. Harry’s beaming at him, and Louis thinks Harry might’ve understood what he meant.  
………

Harry _is_ interested in hunting, but it doesn’t explain why on earth he had insisted for Louis to take him with. Harry doesn’t want to see dying rabbits or birds. But he’s interested what makes Louis spend morning after morning in the woods, searching for a perfect spot and then lying there for an hour or maybe two, just to shoot at something, perhaps even miss.

”Quiet,” Louis whispers, crouching behind the bushes. 

Harry follows suit, not really knowing what else to do. He keeps his eyes on Louis, who takes a couple of silent steps forward, his eyes sharp like a hawk’s. The blue jewels travel around the lake, until they settle on a rather chubby goose. 

”See that one?” Louis whispers, pointing at the goose on the shore further away. 

Harry nods, taking the steps he forgot to take before. He almost topples over, but Louis is quick to catch him by his arm.

”We’re gonna eat it tonight. You can cook goose, yeah?” Louis doesn’t really wait for Harry to answer, Harry’s pretty sure, so he just focuses his eyes back on Louis.

The older is keeping a close eye on the goose as he loads the shotgun silently. The goose is sauntering on the other side of the lake, totally unsuspecting, and for a second Harry feels bad. But then he turns his gaze back on Louis.

Louis' eyes have this burn in them, something that screams _confidence_. His posture is relaxed, like he’d found his element. Harry can see how Louis is biting his teeth together, carefully breathing in and out, in and out.

Then he breathes in and pulls the trigger.

One shot and the goose is down.

Louis exhales.

The concentration is gone, replaced with joy, bright, bright joy. 

”With one shot, that’s something,” Louis beams, getting up, no hope of getting other ones, them being far gone by now.

”You’re a great shooter, Lou,” Harry breathes out as they half jog towards the spot the goose had fallen down at. 

”Thanks, Haz,” Louis throws him a beaming smile, before focusing on the path again.

And maybe Harry’s breath catches a little, but that’s not something he has to admit.  
…………

It’s one of those August days where the sun decides to surprise you and drives away all the clouds, leaving behind the perfect kind of warmness, the summer kind of warmness.

And as Louis learns, the kind of a summer warmness that Harry loves.

”Louis, open up! I know you’re not asleep, I can hear the music.”

Louis can practically see Harry pouting behind his front door, but his limbs just won’t listen to him. He’s been out deer hunting since four a.m. and only got back like two hours ago, at eight. Honestly, he doesn’t feel like getting up just yet. 

He must’ve traveled several miles by foot, but he did manage to kill one deer and it had taken a while for him to get a hold of somebody who could come and pick the animal up, to transfer the body to a more professional skinner. 

So, needless to say, Louis is kind of beat right now.

That, however, doesn’t stop Harry from pushing the door open and after a while of rustling downstairs, climbing up to the loft, to rip Louis’ duvet away.

”Wakey, wakey, sleeping beauty,” Harry sings, definitely too smiley for Louis’ liking. 

Louis grunts, hiding his face in to the pillow. He feels a little bit cold without the duvet, seeing he’s only wearing his briefs and nothing else.

”I think you’re mistaken,” he finds the energy to say, ”since you’re obviously the princess out of the two of us.” 

Harry barks out a laugh, the kind of a laugh that makes his shoulders go up to his ears and his nose crunch up a little. Louis has to open his eyes and take a look.

”Get up, though,” Harry then says with a fond smile on his lips, throwing the duvet back on the bed. 

”Why? At this ungodly hour, why?” Louis screeches, his voice hurting even his own ears. 

Harry sits down on the bed, sighing. He’s fumbling with his rings as he mumbles something that Louis doesn’t quite catch.

”What was that?”

Harry clears his throat. 

”I want to have a picnic.”

Louis blinks twice, not really finding any words to oppose the idea. 

”Okay.”

Harry grins, before getting up and heading towards the ladder. 

”Oh and by the way. Nice glass walls you have there and nice _tattoos,_ ” Harry’s eyes are a little wide when he mentions Louis’ body art, but before Louis has the chance to ask about it, Harry’s already climbing down.

With a sigh, Louis gets up and dresses himself, wondering what’s the big deal with his tattoos, considering Harry’s arms are littered with them, just like Louis’. 

After some minutes Louis finds his way downstairs, where Harry has been packing his basket with whatever he can find in Louis’ fridge. 

”I’m ready to go,” Louis informs, about to slip on his shoes, when Harry says.

”Let’s go bare foot. It’s really nice outside.”

So they go bare foot. The ground is mostly warm when they make their way towards the meadow, and somehow the location doesn't surprise Louis at all.  
He’s spent enough time with Harry during the past weeks to know what goes on under the brown mop of curls. 

They walk side by side, talking about Louis’ morning in the woods, hunting deer. Harry scrunches his nose a few times, but he seems excited to hear about it nonetheless.  
When they reach the familiar bed of flowers, Harry insists they make it in the middle of the meadow, and Louis doesn’t have a reason to oppose. Harry drops the basket and pulls out a big blanket for them to lay on. 

Louis wastes no time as he lies down and pulls the fedora hat Harry is wearing from his head, to cover his face from the sunlight. Perfect.

”I wanted to have picnic with you. Not a nap,” Harry huffs, but does nothing to get Louis to move, so the older shows no effort of moving either.

Harry rustles for a while and then Louis hears him get up, and really with Harry, you can never be too sure what the other one is up to, so he lifts the hat to peek.  
Harry has, indeed, gotten up and started wandering around the meadow. 

Now, Louis has been here with Harry before a few times, but he’s never seen Harry so concentrated on the picking before. His eyes look for something as he wanders on, careful not to step on any flowers while doing so.  
He bents down and picks up some flowers, all in different shades of blue. Louis can’t find it in himself to pull the hat back on his face, but instead keeps watching as Harry makes his way about on the meadow among the flowers. He seems content, humming and picking the flowers.

_A flower boy._

This time the thought lingers for a bit longer, giving Louis a chance to look at it more closely, think about it and taste it.  
Louis remembers thinking that Harry belongs to the forest, like the younger was a part of the forest, but at that moment it just kind of culminates in the way Harry looks gracious in the middle of the flowers, even though Louis can easily say that Harry is as far from gracious as one can get.

After a while, Harry comes back and seems happy to find Louis awake. 

”I picked some flowers,” he says, sitting down next to Louis.

”I can see that. What d’you plan to do with them?” Louis asks, propping himself on his elbows, to see better.

”I want to make you a flower crown,” Harry says, with a bright smile, his eyes crinkled and his dimples showing.

And really. Who is Louis to say no to that?

”Sure, love,” he nods, falling back down, but keeping his eyes open, trained on Harry’s hands weaving the blue flowers together. Harry starts talking in the middle of it all.

”Some columbines, catmint, chicories and blue cornflowers. Not the best ones to make a crown, but I wanted it to be blue, like your eyes,” Harry gestures towards Louis with his head, the smile a bit more shy this time.

Louis smiles too, rolling his eyes, because _of course_ Harry would want him to have a blue crown, like his eyes. 

It takes surprisingly little time for Harry to weave the crown and Louis finds himself to be actually a little excited about the whole thing. 

Excited in the way a grown 24-year-old man is, you know.

”Done,” Harry nods, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, as he finishes the crown. 

He inspects it more closely, before crawling a little closer to Louis and fixing his posture. Louis, too, sits up and bows his head a little (totally unnecessary, he’s shorter anyways) for Harry to put the crown on his head.

Harry does so, with an utmost care. He re-places it at least three times, before he’s satisfied, and when Louis finally lifts his head, Harry beams at him.

”You look so _pretty,_ ” Harry breathes out, and Louis thinks the man might cry.

”Well, now you know how you look every day with the crown on your head,” Louis shrugs like it’s nothing, but he’s most definitely smiling like an idiot, and Harry is blushing.

Which Louis considers a win. 

Harry keeps staring at Louis with his big green eyes, as if Louis is the greatest thing invented on this planet, and Louis would like to say it bothers him, but it doesn’t. Not when it’s Harry.

”Haz,” Louis’ voice has decided to let him down, letting out just a breath that vaguely sounds like Harry’s name. 

Harry seems to be a little dazed as he nods, coming a tiny bit closer. Louis thinks about it for full two or three seconds.  
He thinks about making it weird and about ruining what could be a start of a beautiful friendship, but he squashes those thoughts even faster than they emerged in his head.

_It’s Harry._

And so Louis places his hand on Harry’s cheek, carefully, as if not to scare the other away. Harry’s biting his bottom lip, something Louis has noticed the other does while nervous or thinking really hard. 

The thumping in Louis’ ears is pretty much deafening, but Louis doesn’t let it stop him when he finally leans in all the way, locking their lips together.  
Harry doesn’t hesitate to respond, his lips falling open pliantly under the firm touch of Louis’ lips. Louis’ hand sneaks behind Harry’s neck, pulling the other one closer, closer until they’re chest to chest. 

Louis gives Harry’s bottom lip a gentle bite, resulting in Harry sliding his tongue past Louis’ lips, resolutely taking Louis’ breath away.  
It’s all tender, a little bit clumsy and their hands don’t seem to stop for a second, but it’s all Louis had been dreaming about for weeks now. Harry’s chest is warm against his, and his own hand is buried in Harry’s curly locks, pulling gently, just enough to make Harry moan a little.

As they part away, they’re both a little bit out of breath and grinning. Harry’s hands are rested on Louis’ hips and Louis hands are on Harry’s shoulders, both reluctant to let go.

”Wow,” Harry breathes out, his eyes twinkling from what Louis likes to think is happiness. 

”Yeah, indeed. You’re not only the best at scrabble, but also at kissing,” Louis nods, pretending to approve and pulling a heartfelt laugh out of Harry.

”I think we’re pretty even in this particular sport,” Harry’s hands are twiddling with Louis’ flower crown now, his dimply smile glued to his face.

And yeah, Louis quite likes that.  
………

The next weeks pass in a love blurred haze, really. Louis spends most of his little hours in the morning hunting, sometimes Harry tags along, and Harry picks bilberries and flowers the best he can. 

Harry’s not sure how he does it though. It’s all so new to him, bilberries and flowers not being the only thing taking up his time and interest around this time a year. In fact, when he’s out picking the berries or the flowers, he can only count the hours to seeing Louis.

He doesn’t know what to make of that. 

Today is no exception. He drops of his flowers at his cabin and feeds Dusty before he goes again, heading towards Louis’ house.  
He has a couple of flower bouquets with him, just to replace the dead ones at Louis’. When Harry arrives, Louis is already there, sitting on his couch, scrolling on his phone.

”Hi, Lou,” Harry greets, taking a detour to kiss Louis before heading to kitchen and replacing the flowers.

”How was your morning, love?” Louis asks, locking his phone and getting up from the couch, coming to help Harry with the bouquets. 

”It was good, though I think the bilberry season is over soon,” Harry says pouting and earning a kiss to the side of his head from Louis. 

Harry had been extra hard working with the berries this year, since he’d had to bring some of them to Louis’ freezer not able to fit them in his own.  
They chat about Louis’ trip to the village, Louis tells him about the nice man who skins his deer and Harry also finds out that Louis had the time to go and shoot some rabbits.  
Harry listens intently, but as soon as he’s finished with the flowers, he shuts Louis up with a deep kiss.

”As much as I enjoy your stories, you need a shower,” he grins at the older, who just sighs in a manner Harry’s very familiar with.

”If only there was something to make it worth the while,” Louis is not even looking at Harry as he starts making his way towards the bathroom, and even though Harry really wants to roll his eyes, he can’t do more than chuckle and walk right behind Louis and join him in the shower.

Which is, obviously, a huge nuisance.  
……..  
It’s one Tuesday evening, when Louis realizes he might actually have fucked up. He’a lying down on his couch with Harry next to him, the younger one filling out a crosswords. 

”What’s the biggest lake in Finland?” Harry asks out loud, not expecting for Louis to answer, knowing far too well Louis wouldn’t have an answer. 

Instead of saying anything, Louis keeps carding his fingers through Harry’s curls, letting those three scary words loom in his mind, biting into his skin, telling him he’s screwed.  
Harry’s mouthing different words silently, counting the letters and frowning cutely while doing so, and Louis is having an internal fight. 

He hasn’t known Harry for long at all, but he can’t help feeling so freaking whole having Harry in his arms, filling a crosswords. It all feels so _right._  
So, when Louis takes the crosswords from his boyfriend, and efficiently ignores the _hey, I wasn’t finished,_ he doesn’t really know what to say or think, even.

He just wants to be _close._

Harry seems to read him well enough, as a small smile makes its way onto his lips before he crawls up on Louis’ chest and kisses him. Louis doesn’t waste time, circling his arms around Harry’s waist. It’s sweet, really. Louis can feel Harry smiling against his lips just before his own hands travel down to squeeze the younger’s arse gently. 

”Louis!” Harry squawks, laughing loudly.

Harry pulls away a little to look Louis in the eye, and Louis isn’t sure what exactly Harry sees there, but his smile fades slowly, making room for a new expression.  
And Louis knows this expression already. He’s seen it enough to be able to connect the dots between all the blowies and handjobs and that face. Something warm squirms in Louis’ lower stomach as Harry leans closer and closer, right next to his ear.

”D’you know what you do to me?” 

It’s barely a whisper, but Harry’s voice is thick and the words are slow, heavy with desperation and neediness. His hands are clutching Louis’ white t-shirt suddenly and his back muscles are tense. 

Instead of saying anything Louis opts for placing a small kiss on Harry’s cheek, then one more near his ear and he keeps going lower, as Harry tilts his head to right, giving Louis more access. And Louis peppers his beautiful neck with tiny kisses, murmuring something about how pretty Harry looks.

Harry’s hands are still holding tightly onto Louis’ shirt, as Louis cradles the younger’s neck and pulls him in for another kiss.  
Without a warning, Louis pushes his tongue past Harry’s lips, and gets a sweet gasp out of him. Louis’ hands start sliding up and down Harry’s side as the kiss turns more heated, more desperate. Harry pushes his hips down a little, making Louis aware of his already uncomfortable situation. 

”Love,” Louis breathes in between the kisses, his right hand drowned in Harry’s curls and his left one tugging at Harry’s shirt. 

”Yeah, yeah,” Harry mutters against his lips, pulling away, only to land one more hasty kiss on his lips, before pulling the shirt over his head, tossing it away.

Louis rests his hands on Harry’s hips, holding the other in place. In that exact moment, Louis can pretty much say he’s never seen anything quite as beautiful as this. 

Harry’s lips are swollen from the kisses and red from the biting, his curls are a little bit messed up because of Louis’ hand and his chest is just a tiny bit tacky with sweat, which unfairly, just brings up the lines of Harry’s muscles.  
He’d seen Harry naked before, but he would never get used to it.

”Come ’ere,” Louis mumbles then, pulling the other down on him again, kissing his lips fiercely, positively leaving both of them breathless.

Louis knows they’ve been dating long enough to take this step, he knows they’re definitely more than ready with what the sexual tension being there since day one, but he also knows that once this happens, there’s absolutely no going back.

All his senses are screaming _HarryHarryHarry_ while they messily try to keep their mouths attached, ripping off clothes and tugging at each other’s hair and what not. It’s not gracious the least bit, but Louis doesn’t care. 

As soon as he has Harry naked on top of him, the whole outside world just tunes out, it’s like there’s nothing else there, just this _beautiful,_ glassy eyed man, breathing heavily while sucking and nibbling on Louis’ nipples.  
Louis archs his back, searching more friction, but it’s not enough. Harry’s large hands are massaging his sides now, traveling downwards, until they reach his hips, pressing a little. 

”You are perfect,” Harry mutters while leaving a trail of kisses on Louis’ naked chest. 

Louis doesn’t get a word out, because as soon as he locks eyes with Harry, the other lowers himself in between Louis’ legs, throwing them over his shoulders. Harry bats his eyelashes at him with that innocent look on his face, before he takes a hold of the base of Louis’ cock, and licks at the top, just enough to make Louis’ mouth fall open.  
Louis tries to buck up his hips, but Harry’s firmly pressing him down, as he slowly wraps his lips around Louis’ tip. 

Louis can feel how Harry’s tongue swirls and pushes, licking the slit, and then he’s taking more of Louis in, pushing down, way too fast for Louis to comprehend.

”Harry,” it’s strained and his voice cracks in the middle as his hands make it into Harry’s hair for something to hold on to. 

Harry’s looking at him with hooded eyes, bobbing his head, leaving behind wet sounds and Louis is _this_ close to losing it when Harry sucks in, hollowing his cheeks, but Harry’s still got his reflexes, as he quickly pulls off, letting Louis’ painfully hard cock lie on the older's stomach.

”Good,” there’s a new, moan-y edge to Harry’s breathy voice as he speaks that one word.

And then the minx _licks_ his lips.

Louis groans, pulling Harry back to him, kissing him deeply, trying to convey all the feelings he’s tangled up in, to Harry. 

”Can I too?” Louis almost _pleads,_ but he’d never plead, so really, he doesn’t plead. 

”No,” Harry simply answers, and for a second Louis is ready to start protesting, but Harry beats him to it, ”I want to ride you, Lou.”

And okay. Wow. Yeah. Louis can totally handle that cute nickname and this situation together, it’s not even a big deal. 

”What _I_ do to you? Isn’t the question really what _you_ do to me?” Louis grumbles, yet again pulling Harry in for a kiss. 

Harry laughs a little, but it’s gone pretty much as soon as it came, because Louis is pushing him off, and trotting towards the bathroom. He can hear Harry whining on the couch as he searches for the lube and the condoms from the top drawer. 

”Strawberry flavoured,” Louis announces as he hands the lube to Harry and sits down on the couch again.

”I didn’t take you for a strawberry kinda guy,” Harry hums smirking and waving the tube around.

”I’ll make sure it’s blueberry the next time around,” Louis winks and Harry laughs, in the way his head falls back and really, he’s just too damn gorgeous.

”Gimme the bottle and lie down,” Louis says, taking the bottle back from Harry as Harry lies down on the couch.

”’s been a while, just so you know,” Harry says, pulling Louis closer by his arm, and kissing his nose. 

Louis can’t help but smile. 

And as Harry lies underneath him, his tattooed chest rising with his breaths, a shy smile on his lips, just big enough to bring out the dimples, Louis thinks it’s really just perfect.  
He lowers down a little, kissing Harry’s lips and then his cheek, his neck and sucking on his shoulder and collarbones, erupting small hums from Harry. 

While kissing Harry’s abdomen, Louis opens the bottle and squeezes some of the relatively warm lube onto three of his fingers, before abandoning the whole bottle on the floor.  
He’s still pressing kisses on Harry’s other tattoo of a fern leaf, while he slowly circles Harry’s rim. The younger gasps, his mouth pliantly open at the touch. 

Louis preps Harry with the utmost care, coaxing him open while rubbing Harry’s side and leaving butterfly kisses on Harry’s thighs and stomach. It takes all Louis has in him to do it properly and not just grip Harry's hips and push in, with the man writhing underneath him, moaning and letting out cries of pleasure.

”I’m ready, Louis,” Harry’s breathing heavily, squirming under him once Louis has three of his fingers mercilessly curling inside the other. 

Harry is sweating in the best possible way as Louis pulls his fingers out and grabs the condom, tossing it to Harry, while picking up the lube bottle again.

”Do me, love, won’t you?” Louis doesn’t have to say more, as Harry already rips the package open.

Harry’s just about to slip the condom on, when he stops, as if thinking about something. Louis raises his eyebrows, fighting not to ask whether Harry plans on just staring at his achingly hard cock or if he’s actually going to do something about it. 

”I,” Harry looks from Louis’ cock to Louis’ eyes and then back again, licking his lips, ”I learned something, once.” 

That’s as much of an explanation as Louis gets, before Harry’s placing the condom on his tip, and lowering his mouth on Louis’ cock again, wrapping his pretty lips around the condom and then, he pushes down.

Louis knows his jaw has dropped, he knows he’s about to pass out when Harry’s teeth and tongue carefully roll down the condom. He also knows that Harry’s closed lids are fluttering a little with the concentration and that it’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

Louis doesn’t notice he’s been squeezing the lube bottle before Harry pulls off, his lips and eyes equally shiny, the latter ones with pride, and so Louis just gives him a kiss. 

”You are going to be the death of me, Harold,” he simply says, before slicking up his cock with the lube and finally tossing it on the table, and lying down. 

Harry makes himself comfortable on top of Louis, his hands on top of Louis’ chest while he raises his hips and poses his hole on the tip of Louis’ cock.  
Harry’s biting his bottom lip, his bangs are sweaty and he looks like a downright _sin_. Louis has to take a hold of Harry’s hips to steady himself somehow. 

As Harry finally sinks down, slowly, his eyes flutter shut and Louis has to do some serious work not to buck his hips up. Harry’s _warm_ and _tight_ , and it’s really just unfair, Louis thinks as he waits for Harry to adjust. 

”You’re so good,” he moans out as soon as he’s buried to the hilt, his grip on Harry tightening a notch.

Harry takes a few deep breaths, still gnawing on his lower lip, while Louis gives his hips gentle rubs, trying to distract Harry from the pain just as much as trying to keep himself calm. 

After a little while, Harry just lifts himself up and drops down without a single warning. Louis’ hips snap up, and his head throws back against the cushion and his breath is stolen away. Harry lets out a deep, throaty moan pushing down harder. 

Louis doesn’t have the time to recover, when Harry’s already lifting up and sinking down again, harder this time. Louis can barely hold on to Harry’s hips while the other bounces up and down, his head thrown back, his beautiful long curls grazing his shoulders.  
Harry’s clenching around Louis and even though Louis knows he should let Harry control the rhythm, he can’t help his hips stuttering up, hitting Harry’s sweet spot, pulling the most beautiful moan out of Harry.

Harry’s everywhere. Louis’ ears are filled with these addictive, soft sounds, moans and begging, muttering; the picture of Harry bouncing up and down burned in to his visual memory and his hands, _god_ his hands, grasping Harry’s hips, pressing them, feeling how Harry’s muscles move under the sweaty skin.  
Louis couldn’t be happier for leaving those red marks there, littering Harry’s chest, screaming _I’m yours,_ and really that and the way Harry is holding his bottom lip between his teeth, must be what does it for him. 

He groans, holds tighter onto Harry, probably leaving bruises, as he comes in to the condom and pushes an _I love you_ in the back of his mind, shuddering all over. Harry must’ve felt his muscles tensing up, because not two seconds later, the younger is clenching tightly around Louis, riding out his orgasm, his hands pressing to Louis’ chest.

For three blissful seconds everything’s still, quiet, before Harry falls down onto his chest, letting out a heavy, content sigh. 

Louis laughs a little, carefully pulling out and doing his best work of tying up the condom and putting it down on the floor for now.  
Harry looks wrecked and tired, but so pretty, Louis thinks, as he cards his fingers through the other’s hair. They don’t speak for a while, but it’s comfortable. Louis already knows Harry is spending the night, so really, he has everything he could possibly want or need.

”It was almost like in my dreams,” Harry finally speaks with a rough voice, sending a pleasant shiver through Louis’ body.

”Almost?” Louis gasps out with mock offense, and Harry lifts up his head to show Louis his shit eating grin. 

”Well, in my dreams we do it on that ridiculous fur carpet of yours,” Harry then says, pointing at the white carpet on the floor.

It gets a laugh out of Louis and Harry seems happy, which really is all Louis is asking for. Harry’s lying there on his chest and his big green eyes are a little drowsy, he’s completely fucked out and he’s with Louis. 

”Let’s make bilberry pie and weave a couple of crowns, yeah?” Louis kisses Harry’s forehead just before the dork is jumping up, only to notice his legs won’t support him, and fall back on the couch.

Louis could definitely get used to this, he thinks. And even if he can’t say those three words yet, he knows Harry knows they’re there, and that they’re true and very much permanent. 

……

”I’m sure they’ll love you,” Louis assures as he hops on to the isle, throwing a grape into his mouth.

Harry throws him a glare, one that says _you have to say that, they’re your best friends_ , and not at all _I know, you’re right_ like he had hoped.  
Louis and Harry haven’t known each other for that long, but it still amazes Louis how there’s a new side to Harry for every mood. Like, he has the giggly Harry, the dorky Harry, the flower-y Harry and apparently the murderous/nervous Harry too. 

Harry has been a nervous wreck for these whole two days, ever since the moment Louis had asked for him to cook a meal for him, Liam, Zayn and Harry. Louis had thought it would be subtle enough a way to ask Harry to join them, but Harry hadn’t taken it that well.

”They’re gonna hate me. Louis, they’re _models,_ ” Harry moans in frustration as he stirs something in the pot.

”No, Zayn is a model, Liam’s a manager at some company, I don’t really even know. And _I’m_ a model too,” Louis points out, taking another grape, just to have Harry slap his hand away and take the grapes from Louis.

”I didn’t know you were a model. I would’ve been much more self-conscious since day one if I had, trust me,” Harry’s babbling and walking around, looking for the right spices and definitely avoiding to look at Louis.

This, of course, only makes Louis jump off the table and hug Harry until the younger one stops moving around. 

”Liam and Zayn are only humans. Really nice ones, too,” Louis is drawing circles on Harry’s stomach where he’s back hugging his boyfriend. 

”Also. Nobody messes with my baby, I’ll ruin them if they even try.” 

And maybe that’s what makes Harry loosen up a little and hug Louis back, and kiss him and give him a blowie, but hey, who cares.  
\--  
So. What Louis failed to mention, is that Zayn is a freaking Greek god with his defined facial features and Liam is basically all muscle with crinkly eyes and a perfect smile. Harry kind of wants to hit Louis right now.

”So, what have you been up to?” Liam asks as they’re finally sat around the table after Louis had given his friends a small tour and praised Harry’s cooking long enough for it to become awkward. 

Louis lives off of awkward, Harry knows, as long as it’s not him being awkward.

”Mainly hunting and you know, relaxing with Harry,” Louis smiles at Harry when he says it, and gives his thigh a gentle squeeze under the table.

Liam, too, offers him a smile, a really friendly one, where as Zayn keeps his eyes bored on Louis.

”Louis mentioned something about a flower shop you own?” Liam poses it as a question and Harry’s eternally thankful for including him in the conversation.

”Yeah, I do. In California. I only spend there, like, three months a year, though,” Harry explains and after that Liam asks so many questions that Harry can’t do anything but relax.

Louis seems happy with the conversation flowing between them, well until:

”When are you coming back?” Zayn asks, speaking properly for the first time.

It does kill the mood effectively, and Liam hisses something Harry doesn’t quite catch, but Zayn only glares at him. 

”Zayn, I’ve told you I don’t know,” Louis rolls his eyes, giving Harry an apologetic smile, before turning back to his best friend again.

Harry doesn’t know much about their relationship, other than that they’d known each other for over ten years and that they’d spent all of those ten years together, very tightly.  
He can tell Zayn really cares about Louis, even though the man seems very cool and composed from the outside. Harry’s always had a knack for people’s minds and behaviour.

”It’s been months, Louis. They told me you quit your job, too. _Are_ you coming back?” Zayn’s voice is a little accusing, Harry thinks, but Louis doesn’t say anything, only fiddles with the table cloth and frowns.

”Like, it would’ve nice to hear it from you, y’know. And what is this all anyways? You’ve had the time to relax,” this time Zayn’s tone is nearing desperation, but not quite. 

”I like it here. I can’t remember when was the last time I was able to breath like this, Z,” Louis keeps his calm, but he’s also got this really firm edge to his voice.

Harry wants to hold his hand, but he doesn’t have the chance to when Zayn is speaking again, taking up all of their attention.

”Haven’t you seen it all out here already?” Zayn doesn’t look at Harry, but for some reason it feels like a direct attack, because wow.

Harry doesn’t wait around to hear more of it, only gets up and gives Louis and Liam a nod, before leaving the house, not bothering with his shoes.  
Harry knows he’s not like Louis’ friends are. They are all beautiful, polite and rich, people who work to get rich and then spend the money carelessly. Harry knows he’s not like them, that he’d hate to go around in some fancy event, with a fancy suit on, but Zayn’s words still sting. 

Harry doesn’t make it as far as he originally planned, before Louis is grabbing his hand and pulling him into a kiss. 

It hits the corner of Harry’s mouth and it’s short, but it conveys Louis’ feelings well enough.

”I’m sorry, love,” Louis sighs, obviously disappointed. 

He travels his hand through Harry’s hair, and he’s got this extremely tender expression on his face when he speaks again.

”You’re the most _beautiful_ person I’ve ever met. Outside and inside, hands down. I never thought that coming here, in this dingy old forest, I’d find the person I don’t want to let go of.” 

Wow.

That’s what Harry has the time to think, before he crashes his lips on Louis, pulling the older closer until he can’t feel anything else around him than Louis. 

It’s a split second decision, just something that's flitting through his mind, but Harry’s never been good at hiding his thoughts or feelings, and Louis should know it too by now.

”I love you.”

”I love you, too.” 

Louis doesn’t hesitate even for a second, and Harry’s 99% percent sure Louis had been thinking about it before too, like he’d only waited for the right moment to say it, like the words just wanted to escape his mouth but for some reason hadn’t yet. 

And then they’re laughing, well, Harry’s giggling and Louis is adjusting his flower crown, made out of blue flowers on Louis demand, and it’s all so pink and bubbly and yes, Harry knows it’s just the honeymoon phase, but he really doesn’t care, because he wants to face the harder things with Louis. (pun so not intended)

”He’s wearing a flower crown for Christ’s sake Zayn. He’s a good guy,” Liam’s voice carries to them from somewhere near, but Harry can’t spot the two anywhere.

”I already _promised_ to apologize. Stop harassing me,” Zayn is actually whining and it’s not the first time that night Harry’s wondering what exactly is the relationship between those two. 

”Uh, guys. We can hear you,” Louis shouts, rolling his eyes harder than Harry’s ever seen him do. 

”We almost got bloody lost,” Liam complains pushing his way through the bushes, making both Harry and Louis cringe.

Liam is ushering Zayn towards Harry, and Harry's pretty sure he can hear Liam mutter something along the lines of _he's a super nice kid, try to act your age or you're sleeping alone for the next two months_ , but he's no too sure. 

After that though, Zayn doesn’t exactly waste his time as he marches up to Harry and takes a deep breath. 

”I’m a total dick head and shouldn’t have said what I did. I just miss Louis, a lot, and sometimes I get a little possessive, but that’s only in Liam’s opinion. But yeah, I’m sorry, Harry.”

And maybe some of it feels a little practiced, but Harry doesn’t mind because Zayn is also giving him a shy smile, a smile that seems to be his real one, and Harry’s just a sucker for smiles. 

He pulls Zayn into a hug and murmurs something about apology accepted, before Zayn pulls away, fixing his hair with despair written all over his pretty face.  
Harry, Louis and Liam laugh, but really the only sound in Harry’s head is Louis saying I love you too, and the only thing Harry sees are the crinkles by Louis’ eyes and the pretty shining of his blue eyes. 

But Harry thinks he can manage with that. 

Definitely.


End file.
